


Cat Of The Village

by orphan_account



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Don't Read This, M/M, Satire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:33:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The only thing between Robert and his new school was a sopping wet football field and a fence. The bell rings, his face falls, so does the rain, and with the help of those worn sneakers he's met with a face full of mud and a detention for tardiness on his first day.[I got the title from a random online generator.]





	1. Chapter 1

The sky is grey and the only sounds that can be heard are a heavy wind alongside the steady paces of students walking around the campus.

Following a sidewalk we pan up from worn sneakers and faded black jeans, a ratty shoulder bag and a black canvas flight jacket. The boy, or young man rather, is called Robert Plant and he knows three things for certain. 

One: America is colder than he expected.

Two: He's late for his first day.

& Three: He probably looks like a small dog at the moment with his inane shivering and shoulder length curls.

The only problem about moving from the middle of bum-fuck nowhere England to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere America is that it's easy to get lost here. Not only was his hometown the only thing he'd ever known, apparently he had no concept of direction. B-F N America has a considerably large downtown circuit, with chains and department stores milling about every half-mile. It was practically a city!

Not only this but the bus system was completely unorthodox, but that was another story.

The only thing between Robert and his new school was a sopping wet football field and a fence. The bell rings, his face falls, so does the rain, and with the help of those worn sneakers he's met with a face full of mud and a detention for tardiness on his first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cease to be


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...for the convenience of the narrative..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't justify how their names hold up in a modern AU, but we're stuck with it now, also I'm sorry for taking so bloody long, and any inconsistencies in the tense, k bye =:^)))))

The best part of arriving early to detention is the ease of which comes reimagining your favourite porno, or maybe Robert’s just a suck up and a stickler for being punctual. He decides to sit in the third row of seats from the front, not too far but not too close, right in the very heart of the room. Over the course of the following fifteen minutes some curious characters enter the place of which include: 

Warden, or kid who sits at the front with a book and the most miffed expression anyone could ever manage.

Sexy Guy, or Scary Guy, who's way too pretty for an American bloke and dressed like something out of Robert’s vintage aesthetic blog.

Scary Sexy Guy is trailed by a small group of other lads who were unremarkable and unimportant. 

And Bonzo, because somehow they’re both English in this American Tale and they’re still good friends for the convenience of the narrative, how about something like… They’re fathers work in the same company and several families were uprooted and transferred here, that works.

Scary Sexy Guy decides it’s a great idea to hunker down right next to Robert, who is simultaneously really suave and super nervous.

“What brings you here to the isle of misguided youth? Uh -- hot stuff….?”, Robert grits out.

“I saw you earlier and thought you were hot, how convenient is it that we’re discovering our latent homosexuality? We should make out.”, and with a pensive expression Scary Sexy Guy began to blow Robert on the spot, scrumptious animalistic moans just oozing out between the smacks of moist cavern on penis.

“Plant? ...Going once? Absent for his first time, I guess.”, and that’s when Robert is forcefully interrupted from his fantasy by the voice at the front.

“No!”, he splutters, with all the grace of a land whale, “He’s here, I’m here. I’m Plant.”

“Well, then, so nice of you to join us. Welcome, I’m John.”, Drawls the Warden.

Robert doesn't learn any of the names of the other students, so he assumes they're probably regulars. Scary Sexy Guy is totally real though, and definitely staring him down like the hunk of fresh meat he is, and not in the ‘I wanna jump your bones’, kinda way either. Him and the larger group are huddled together at the front right of the room, Bonzo opts to offer a wave to Robert and sits in the very back with a book and a not so discreet pipe. He’s been in this landfill of a country for far longer than Robert, who figures they could catch up later. John the Warden stands at the front with a chip on his shoulder and chalk in his hand mapping out musical notation like nobody’s business. 

Robert decides that if the rest of the room were this casual then he could be too, so he drops his bag into the seat next to him and sidles up to John. 

“What do you play?”, he asks.

“Plant? Piano mostly,” John answers with something like surprise, but it was hard to tell, “A little bass, here and there, Yourself?” He turns to face Robert, as if he’s genuinely curious.

“I’ve dabbled with guitar in the past, got pretty decent at harmonica. But, I sing, actually. That’s what I’m known for.”, Robert notes that the mention of guitar managed to catch Scary Guy’s attention, if only for a moment. What a creep.

“And, are you? Known, I mean.”, John offers, conversationally.

“Uh, yeah, a little. I come from a pretty small town back home, but I had a gig with a few mates of mine, we would play the local pub.”

“Right, you must be pretty pissed then, I take it. To have to spend three more years in school?”, John says, as if only now remembering Robert is a dirty immigrant.

“Yeah, something like that. But I mean, either way, it’s college or high school. I’d take this over that any day, honestly.”, Robert’s not sure if that was his optimism or an attempt at reassuring himself.

“Black Country?”, chimes an incredibly unintimidating voice.

“Pardon?”, ask Robert, like the southern belle he isn’t.

“Where is it that you’re from?”, it's painfully obvious now that the voice belongs to apparently not so Scary Guy. Robert stifles a puzzled expression as he tries to place the accent. 

“Yeah, Staffordshire,” Robert offers a hand to nameless.

“Jimmy Page, enthusiast.”, he says, standing and taking Robert’s hand with a jovial shake.

“Enthusiast of what exactly?”, asks John.

“You, at the moment.”, he says this nonchalantly, never breaking eye contact with Robert. Who’s thinking, perhaps his earlier fantasy wasn’t too far off.

“I’m starting a group, Jonesy’s in regardless of his opinion. But I’m wondering if you’d be interested at all.”, Jimmy says, glancing at John--Jonesy?--John.

“Off about that again, are you Page?”, Taunts a voice from the group. Of which, despite the lack of comedic substance in the question, laugh anyways.

Jimmy seems to pay them no mind, and John cracks a little smirk.

“What kind of group, do ye have mind, exactly?”, asks Robert.

“Rock, classic, four piece, bigger than The Beatles and Nirvana.”, and Jimmy manages this with a face as straight and serious as they come.

Robert’s brow arches a little, surprised at the confidence in his tone.

“Rock is a dying art form in this century, don’t you find?”, asks John, who still hasn’t taken his attention off the marks on the board.

“Rubbish!”, Jimmy exclaims, “Think of all the indie material I’ve been showing you, there’s hope yet, and we’re it, I’m telling you.”

John scoffs goodnaturedly, “Don’t get started with this again,” he says.

“Message me when you’re free, even if you don’t want to join it’s good to network,” JImmy looks at Robert again, “Do you have a pen, by chance?”

“Yeah, just a second.”, Robert manages, and lumbers back to his bag to find one.

“Catch, mate.”, pipes Bonzo suddenly, throwing a good ol’ ballpoint all the way from the back. Robert’s attention piques as the offending object whizzes past his face, and Jimmy just barely catches it. He tips the pen in thanks.

“I’ve been known to play a beat every once in awhile, if you haven’t got one of those yet, I mean,” Bonzo adds.

“Absolutely not, yet”, Jimmy answers, and hands the pen and a piece of paper with his number on it back to Robert, who was considerably closer to return the ink thing.

“Well, then,” Says John, who’s turned to face the room once again, “It would appear all is well in our little world.”

And if Robert’s head weren’t spinning at the amount of information and stimulation he’s been forced to take in, he might’ve been a little more excited about the prospect of what seemed like a date with this strangely dashing and confident Jimmy Page. But, for now, as he seats himself back down, and they return to their respective activities, he thinks, maybe, he’s in a little over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma try 2 update at least once every other weeeek


End file.
